Wait and Hope
by Stuart Pidasso
Summary: What follows comes from the few recovered burnt pages of Primrose Everdeen's diary, pages recovered from the ashes of the Everdeen home in District 12. Historians believe that she wrote these words near the time of her twelfth birthday.
1. Chapter 1

(What follows comes from the few recovered burnt pages of Primrose Everdeen's diary, pages recovered from the ashes of the Everdeen home in District 12. Historians believe that she wrote these words near the time of her twelfth birthday.)

Dear Diary,

The strangest thing happened today that I have to share; however, to put everything into perspective, I should start at the very beginning in the predawn darkness of a very disastrous morning.

We are fortunate to be experiencing a warmer than normal spring at the moment. And with warm springs, the forest has sprung to life with foliage and critters that my old cat, Buttercup, finds tasty. Unfortunately for all concerned, he's a better hunter at night, and on nights when I sleep in my older sister's bed, his successful adventures usually lead to Katniss's elbow jabbed into my back.

"Prim, get your raggedy cat out from under my bed," said my very perturbed sister.

When I was about to ask why, the answer came with the disturbing crunch of bone between Buttercup's jaw. He may be old and sometimes slow, but he's quite a talented mouser. And for whatever reason, he always seems compelled to eat close to me, which means under whatever bed I'm sleeping, to my sister's ever-growing annoyance.

Rolling out of bed into the cool morning darkness, I knelt down to see the dark shadow of Buttercup beneath the bed. When I reached for him, he hissed at me. "He doesn't want to come out. Can't I leave him be?" I asked in a soft voice so not to wake mom on the other side of the room. "He'll be done soon."

My sister turned over. "No. I won't be able to sleep with him crunching away."

When I reached for Buttercup a second time, I heard a determined growl through his clenched jaws that caused me to withdraw my hand. I began to plead, "Mom doesn't take notice when he eats under her bed."

"Then you should have slept with mom," replied Katniss coldly. "Get him out or he'll be next on our dinner table."

"Mom and I would never eat Buttercup."

Katniss's voice sharpened. "It wouldn't stop Greasy Sae from adding him to her stew. Get him out."

Having seen my sister hunt, I had to get Buttercup out from under her bed since Katniss never kidded about killing animals. I promptly fetched our kitchen broom and prodded Buttercup from beneath her bed and out the bedroom door, much to groaning feline protests. Setting the broom aside, I sleepily crawled back into bed.

Katniss rolled over and through and arm over me. "Thank you, Prim," she whispered.

However, her subsequent words were not so loving when they awoke me later. "Prim! I swear that cat of yours is on its ninth life."

The bed covers flipped up on my sister's side of the bed exposing my back to the cool morning air. Turning over, I saw Katniss beginning to dress. "What?" I asked groggily. This was when I heard my cat begin to gag rhythmically as he does when about to vomit, which he did.

My sister pointed down at floor at the foot of the bed. "Ninth life, I tell ya."

Buttercup's second batch of rhythmic gagging only lasted a couple seconds when I heard it end with him retching his nighttime snack onto our wood floor.

"Prim, you're cleaning this up."

"I will," I reassured her. Pulling the covers across myself to hide from the cool morning air, I shut my eyes for a few more minutes of sleep.

"I mean now," exclaimed my sister, "before it stains my floor."

Groaning, I buried my face. "Our floors are nothing but stains. I'll clean it up soon."

Buttercup began to gag again, signifying that there was more to come.

"No entrails for you today, you mangy beast." Katniss donned her hunting jacket as she stomped out the door with one last reminder. "Prim, clean it up."

I'm not sure how long I had continued to sleep, but the sun had fully risen when I woke on this special Saturday to remember. Staggering out of bed, I began to stretch when I noticed that mom had already awoken and left for her morning errands. When I came around the end of the bed, yawning, I felt something wet and squishy lodged between my toes. "Buttercup!" I exclaimed to an empty room, hopping on one foot.

Walking on my heel to keep my toes from touching the floor, I hobbled outside and began using rainwater to clean the remnants of partially digested field mouse from between my toes. As I dried my foot with a rag, I heard a meow come from the open front door. I turned and eyed Buttercup. "Don't meow me," I groaned vexedly. "Do you know how annoying it is to step on your partially eaten critters? Why do you eat things that constantly make you throw up?"

Buttercup approached me and began to purr—which my sister claims to have never heard when I'm not around—to be honest, I think they both enjoy rubbing each other the wrong way, though neither would ever admit it.

Rubbing his fur against my back, Buttercup turned and rubbed against me a second time, meowing.

"Apologizing isn't going to work this time. Do you know how disgusting it is to clean up furry mounds of...goo from our feet, and the floor?" I crossed my arms to make my anger clear to my little friend.

His purring increased as he came around from behind and rubbed his head against my thigh. When the sun glimmered off his fur coat, the orange fur revealed traces of cat dandruff.

"Go away. I'm mad at you," I huffed.

Rubbing against my thigh and turning, Buttercup sat down and began staring at me, purring away.

I met his eyes with a cold stare, but as it often happens, my cold stare began to melt rather quickly in the presence of my friend. I'm not sure if cats actually smile, but I swear mine does since he knows that I cannot hold a grudge against him. Sighing, I began petting him. "I'm still mad at you."

Buttercup meowed.

"We should do something special today to make up for this morning? I don't have any homework."

Buttercup meowed as she turned in a circle between strokes of his fur.

"Our library got a new book yesterday. Well it's actually an old musty book, but the Capitol sent a small box of used fiction to our school. The librarian set this one aside so that I could be the first to read it. Do you want me to read a story to you?"

Buttercup meowed.

I began scratching behind Buttercup's ear. "I don't want to read it here." I confessed. "Let's go explore and find a new reading spot under a shade tree somewhere near the Meadow. The weather should be nice today, and we can bring Lady to let her graze on some different grass."

With his eyes closed, Buttercup pushed his head against the next stroke of my hand with a victorious feline smile.

Slipping on my shoes, I freshened Lady's water and told her my plan for the day. The goat seemed up for it as she licked my face and began to limp enthusiastically around her section of our small yard. I inspected her shoulder to find the scars barely visible. Lady had completely healed from her injuries from when she was mauled by another animal, but she would still limp from time to time.

Diary, my mother once said that some injuries never completely heal from the scarring left deep within; it sounded as if mom was talking about herself when she said it though. Lady seems to handle hers well and often doesn't limp at all.

Fetching a pail of water, I proceeded to clean up Buttercup's mess in Katniss's room. To my dismay, Buttercup had vomited twice elsewhere—quickly pointed out to me by my mom upon her return from errands. Dang cat!

With a small lunch packed and my chores complete, I went to retrieve my goat Lady. As I approached her, she began to hop with anticipation, bleating, for she always seems to know when we are going exploring near the Meadow. Using a makeshift rope as a leash, I tied it to my goat's collar.

"Hey, girl; are you ready for some of that yummy Meadow grass?" I asked her.

With a loud bleat, Lady began pulling me towards the gate. I followed her lead, and we soon found ourselves at the edge of the Meadow.

Peeking over my shoulder, I spotted Buttercup trailing behind, following in the shadows. It's quite common for my cat to follow me on my weekend excursions, though I never go far.

Diary, it has always amazed me how Buttercup knows when it's time for exploring versus going to school. We don't give animals enough credit for their inherit wisdom.

As we progressed along the edge of the Meadow, Lady unexpectedly began pulling me down a new path, and I soon spotted a perfect shade tree to lie under and read. Securing Lady to a smaller nearby tree, I made sure she had plenty of prairie grass to graze before finding a spot under the much larger shade tree. The grass was dry and soft, and made for a comfortable place to lie once I spread an old blanket. As I prepared to read, Buttercup finally arrived and propped himself up onto a nearby fallen log, stretching out in a small patch of sun. A light breeze was coming from the direction of the Meadow, which was welcomed since it would keep the mosquitoes at bay.

Stretched on my stomach, I opened the book and began reading to myself.

Buttercup meowed.

"I'm not reading to you today, naughty cat," I said coldly.

A low purr began to come from the direction of the fallen log.

"No. Don't even think that you can sweet talk me."

To add insult to injury, I watched Buttercup yawn unaffectedly and roll onto his side with eyes closed, basking in the sun.

I read for an hour before I began picking away at my tiny lunch of goat cheese, a handful of small wild blackberries that my sister had collected in the forest, and stale bread, which Katniss had received from the baker in exchange for some squirrels.

During my second hour of reading, I began to yawn incessantly due to the lack of sleep from the night before—due to someone aforementioned who always feels compelled to eat mice in my presence. To extend my reading time, I began to read aloud, and Buttercup began to purr. Besides bringing mice to me, I never understood why he enjoyed hearing my voice, but I continued reading until my interrupting yawning could no longer be ignored. Fortunately for me, Saturday's allow me to sneak a nap, so I closed my book and rolled onto my back to stare up at the tree. Partially covering myself with the blanket, I drifted off to sleep.

I'm not sure how long I napped, which could not have been long, but I awoke to the sound of Buttercup's low ominous groan. He may be a mischievous cat, but he's a smart feline, so I sat up and searched my surroundings. Lady was fine, grazing away, and I spotted nothing out of the ordinary. When I looked to Buttercup, I noticed that he was looking up at the tree. Scanning the canopy, I saw nothing. Still sleepy, I laid myself down to catch a couple more minutes of sleep before I would read again. "If you see an eagle or hawk, you better scoot next to me; otherwise, hush you naughty cat."

Half asleep, I began staring up at the dancing light leaking through the swaying tree canopy. I think the winds were starting to pick up as the sounds of the swaying grass and budding leaves had grown louder. Watching the tree sway above me was soothing and hypnotic. I began studying the various patterns of the branches when I suddenly felt as if I was staring at a reflecting pond, but this time, I felt as if I was beneath the water looking up at myself, my hair draped downward towards me. In this surreal moment, I began to make out my own face above me through the camouflage of the tree when the most startling thing happened, the tree smiled back at me.

I sat upright with a gasp, completely startled. My eyes finally awake, sharpened on a girl lying on the largest branch above me.

Sensing my worry, Buttercup moaned his distrust towards the stranger.

Frozen in place, I stared with bewilderment up at the girl, but Buttercup's protests pulled me back into a more cautious frame of mind. I cleared my throat. "Have you been up there the whole time?"

The girl repositioned herself into a crouch. Her smile had evaporated, and a worry began to creep into her stare. After a brief exchange of confused looks between us, the girl dropped effortlessly to the ground. Standing before me, she focused on the book from which I had been reading.

I continued studying this pale girl—who stood mere feet from me: She wore an old worn dress that had most of the color faded away from wear and rough hand washings; her bare feet were stained by coal dust and dirt; if I had to guess, she was of similar age as me with hair resembling my own.

Unable to put a name to the girl's face, I slowly rose to my feet. "Hello," I said cautiously.

Her gray eyes met mine, but she hesitantly returned my stare as she shifted her weight backward onto her heels.

"My name is Prim. It's actually Primrose, but everyone calls me Prim."

Hoping for any kind of response, I began to gnaw my lip. "Um, what's your name?"

The girl turned her head slowly as she next glanced at Lady and then Buttercup. Her soft, nonthreatening gaze began to put me at ease. When I offered to shake her hand—to calm my own unease—she looked down at my hand for an instant before running off through the nearby brush.

"Wait! I mean no harm," I called politely. I followed her direction and quickly discovered a worn trail that led through the brush to a dirt road that divided the Seam from the Meadow. The girl was nowhere in sight, so I took a moment to listen for her. Listening intently, I heard nothing until Lady beckoned me to return.

Diary, I have to confess that the surprise guest to my picnic had left me quite upset. I took a seat on the fallen log and stroked Buttercup until I felt my nerves settle, but even after that, I had no focus to return to reading. I retrieved Lady and we exited the Meadow through the mysterious girl's path. We followed the dirt road home, but we saw no sign of the girl or where she may have went.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Diary,

It has been a week since I've seen the mysterious girl, and since then, I have neither seen her nor put a possible name to her face. Our school in District 12 isn't big enough not to know everyone—or at least recognize everyone, but I could not recall anyone like her. I even went to the library to look at the photos in the student roster and came up empty.

I actually began my inquiries last Sunday night in the kitchen with my sister while we cleaned up after dinner. Standing with Katniss at the sink, I grabbed the next plate from her to dry. "Have you ever encountered a girl about my age at the edge of the Meadow?"

Katniss began scrubbing the next dinner plate in the lukewarm water. "There are a lot of girls your age that play in the Meadow."

"I took Lady there to graze, and I met a girl who was up in one of the shade trees at the edge of the Meadow, in the clump of trees about halfway down the dirt road on our side of the Seam. She was about my height, skinny with long dark hair, and she wore no shoes. Have you seen anyone like her, up in a tree perhaps?" I asked coolly.

My sister grinned suspiciously at me. "You just described most of the girls in the Seam."

I accepted the next plate to dry. "I know. I asked my friends at school, and no one knows about whom I'm talking. I've gone back to that tree a couple times and haven't seen her."

"Why didn't you ask for her name?"

"I did, but she didn't say anything. She just dropped effortlessly out of the tree, stared at me for a second, and then disappeared into the brush without a sound. I followed her, but she just disappeared."

"Maybe you saw a ghost," said Katniss with an ominous tone. When my sister looked at me, she waggled her brow and laughed.

I scolded her with a disapproving stare, "Not funny. You know I hate ghost stories."

Katniss lowered her voice to a whisper. "She could be standing outside our kitchen window at this very moment, waiting for you to go outside and check on Lady."

With pursed lips, I pretended to ignore my sister as I felt my face reddened.

"Maybe a zombie muttation has escaped from the Capitol and has wondered all the way to our district. You'd be a prime target with that big brain of yours."

Unable to control my anger, I stomped on Katniss's foot, knowing well enough that her hunting boots protected her toes.

My sister laughed again. "Sorry, little duck. I'm just teasing."

"Don't!" I exclaimed. "You know how much I hate scary stories."

"I'll stop." Katniss handed me the last dish to dry. "Maybe that girl didn't feel well and didn't feel like hanging around to talk. Tell you what; I'll keep an eye out for this girl the next time I pass by that section of the Meadow. I'll even scan the tops of the trees for you. I'm sure she was someone you knew but just didn't recognize at the time."

Angry still at being teased, I nodded my thanks as Katniss left me to finish the last bit of drying.

With our kitchen chores completed, I reached for a small container of leftovers, which always went to Lady as an award since she gives us such good goat milk in return. I opened the front door and thoroughly scanned the darkness outside. Resolved not to let my sister's teasing stop me, I brought Lady her after dinner treat—and promptly went back inside our home.

Diary, why do sisters always have to be such a pain?

Dear Diary,

I have exciting news! I've discovered a grand secret, but I need to be careful and only share this in my journal so not to reveal too much. I believe that if I reveal the secret to the wrong people that there could be consequences. I'll share what I can and start at the beginning.

Today, Saturday, I returned to the spot under the shade tree with Buttercup and Lady. Determined to wait it out, I even brought the same book from the school library along with a snack of goat cheese, all in the hope of remaining until sundown.

Several hours passed, and I was beginning to feel frustrated, for I had a strong need to see this girl again. I don't know why seeing her again became so important, but it had.

Buttercup and Lady did not mind lingering by the Meadow. Buttercup had plenty of sun and Lady enjoyed the fresh prairie grass. It was also breezy which kept the insects away as the pleasant scents of wild flowers drifted towards us from the Meadow. The sky was partly cloudy with small puffy clouds that I occasionally watched drift across the sky. All in all, it was a beautiful day.

However, the winds made hearing any other sounds difficult, so I found myself checking over my shoulders repeatedly—and scanning the tree above me. Losing hope, the urge to nap grew in me, and I began to read aloud in the hope of staying awake a bit longer.

I was beginning the next chapter in my book when I heard a groan from Buttercup. "Hush, you. Mom says that I have a nice reading voice," I chided wryly. Glancing at my cat, I discovered that I was not the one capturing Buttercup's attention.

I spun my head around to see the mysterious girl peeking at us from an opening in the brush. Not wanting to scare her away, I remained seated and smiled at her.

The girl just stood there in the shadows, eyeing each of us in turn.

Swallowing, I spoke in a cheerful tone, "Hello. I hope that I'm not intruding in your spot?"

The girl continued to stare.

"This is a great place to read books." Slowly, I lifted my book a couple inches before returning it to my lap.

The girl's eyes locked on my book. She swallowed hard and stepped from the shadows of the brush. Stopping at the base of the tree, she wore the same faded dress from before with no shoes on her feet. Her long hair appeared kept, free of knots, as it draped over her shoulders. Hints of red hair shone when touched by the random beams of sunlight that slipped through the swaying tree canopy.

"My name is Prim. I don't think that I've ever seen you before." I now knew that I hadn't!

The girl said nothing as she studied the three of us.

My cat returned her stare as she took a more defensive sitting posture. Thankfully, Buttercup wasn't rude and kept his back fur flat. Lady was oblivious as she continued grazing on prairie grass.

_Well, she's no ghost_, I thought. "What's your name?"

The girl did not reply as she slowly crouched at the base of the tree, her eyes fixated on my book.

"You're not a zombie are you?" I quickly studied her exposed finger and toe nails to find them reasonably groomed. _Do_ z_ombies use nail clippers?_ I thought ridiculously to myself.

She kept eyeing my book.

"Do you want to look at the book?" I slowly closed the novel and held it out to her.

Her eyes widened, but she did not flee. With hesitant hands, she reached out and took the book. She seemed to relax as she sat back against the base of the tree and inspected the book. Opening to a random page, her eyes surveyed the pages.

"Um...I hope you don't mind me asking, but can you read?" I inquired mannerly.

The stranger did not look up.

Gnawing my lip, I pressed on with my discoveries. "You see; you're holding the book upside down." Using my hands, I gestured to her to turn the book right around.

The girl only glanced at me for a moment before passing the book to me.

"You're not the talkative type are you?" I queried. The silence putting me at unease, I nervously pointed at my cat. "This is Buttercup. He's cranky, but a good friend once you get past that." So not to startle the girl, I turned slowly and pointed to my goat tied to the small tree at the edge of the Meadow. "That's Lady. She'll eat anything you put in front of her, so don't let her get hold of your dress. She seems to have a peculiar taste for cotton."

The girl began pointing at my book.

"Do you want to see it again?" I held it out.

She shook her head and then pointed at me.

"You want me to read to you?"

The girl did not respond, but when I looked into her eyes, they appeared full of curiosity. I sat silently in the hope she would say something, but she remained quiet as her eyes inspect all of us in turn. She sat back and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"Do you speak English? I've never met anyone who didn't speak English before." Though her silence was frustrating, I myself began to relax.

The girl pointed to the book again.

Unsure of what else I could do, I opened my book and picked up where I had left off.

My guest immediately began to smile. She seemed to relax even more as she glanced about, occasionally peering over the book to look at the page. At one point, she even gave the tinniest wave to Buttercup.

Wouldn't you know it, Diary; my grumpy cat got up and sat next to the girl. Buttercup even began purring to invite some petting. He doesn't even allow Katniss to pet him.

The girl was hesitant at first. Perhaps she had never pet a cat before, but she quickly learned and made a friend for life.

After an hour of reading aloud, my throat began to feel too dry to continue. I laid the book across my lap and watched Buttercup lay on his side enjoying the attention from his new friend. "His name is Buttercup," I shared. "I'm not sure if you remember me telling you."

Fully relaxed, the girl smiled at me.

"I'm Prim," I said patting my chest. "What's your name?"

Not responding at the least to any of my questions, Buttercup's apparently new best friend kept stroking him without a care in the world.

I began to wonder if she was deaf—that the request for me to read from the book a ploy—when a woman's voice called out from behind the brush.

"Ruby?" said an adult female.

I did not recognize the voice, but my new friend most certainly did. Her eyes widen as she froze in place. Her reaction gave enough concern to Buttercup that he rose to his feet with ears flat and an arched back. Then in a flash, the girl began climbing the shade tree, not stopping until several feet up where she perched on a large branch.

"Ruby?" called out the woman, now sounding annoyed. Just then, the woman, my mom's age, burst through the brush and entered the clearing under our shade tree, sending Buttercup into hiding. The woman glared at me for a second before she asked distrustfully, "Who are you?"

"I'm Primrose Everdeen," I spurted out. Unsure if this girl need protection, my eyes unfortunately betrayed me when I glanced up at her.

The woman immediately looked up and spotted the girl. "Ruby, come down here. Come on." The woman pointed to the ground.

The girl dropped with ease to the ground, and woman placed an arm around her shoulder to escort her away.

I jumped to my feet. "She can't talk, can she?"

The woman paused. "No." Her eyes sharpened on me. "And I expect you to keep our personal affairs to yourself." They turned to leave.

"Is her name Ruby?" I asked with a sense of urgency. "I was reading with her, and she seemed to enjoy it."

The woman spun around, the girl peering from behind. "That's ridiculous. My daughter can't read."

My sweaty hands gripped the book. "I figured that, but she seemed to enjoy me reading to her."

The mother stared angrily at me.

I swallowed. "I don't ever recall seeing her at school."

"She's too stupid for school," chastised the woman. "They told me that I need not bother to send her."

Despite the girl being a stranger, I felt offended by her mother's comment. "She's not stupid. There's a curiosity behind those eyes."

"What do you know little girl. Are you some kind of genius?"

"No," I replied. "But I do volunteer occasionally in the class for special students. Ruby isn't like them. I can tell."

Smirking, the woman stepped aside and gestured towards Ruby. "Did my daughter tell you her name? Did she answer any question of any kind? Tell me, did she even nod her head to a simple yes or no?"

"No. We've only met a couple times."

"Ha," exclaimed the woman. "We've just met, and we've already said more than Ruby ever will. It would be easier to train a mosquito"

"That's not fair!" I burst. Realizing that I had just shouted at a stranger—and adult, I nervously took a step back. "Sorry, ma'am," I said apologetically. "I just don't think she's stupid, that's all."

"Well, you can go off now and ruin our lives by telling everyone about her. We can be the laughing stock of the Seam." The woman turned and began guiding Ruby through the brush.

Stepping forward, I tried to earn the mothers trust. "I won't tell anyone about Ruby," I said sincerely. "I promise"

The mother paused to stare at me for one last moment, but she said nothing before exiting the clearing beneath the shade tree.

I cautiously followed them through the brush and discovered that they lived in the squat Seam house directly across the road, a worn down home similar to my family's.

Diary, that afternoon under the shade tree, I learned nothing more that the girl's name was Ruby. Her mother seemed overly protective, but perhaps, she has good reason. Despite the little progress, I feel strongly that I have discovered a friend, and I must keep her secret until I learn more.


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Diary,

Perhaps I should not be writing details about Ruby, but I feel compelled to do so. My diary is safe from my mom since she has promised never to snoop without telling me first. My sister doesn't have an interest in books, as I do, so you're safe from her.

Katniss tells me that I'm just wasting paper by keeping a journal. If I had to guess, Diary, I bet she'll 'waste' much more paper than I ever will. She's the kind of person who finds herself on exciting adventures that will no doubt fill many books. I'm just the type that reads about them.

The main reason I need to write about Ruby is that my first reaping day will soon be here. I want to make sure that the world knows about my friend in case the unthinkable happens to me and I find myself chosen to die in this year's Hunger Games.

Katniss keeps reassuring me that I have nothing to worry since my name will be in the lottery only once this year. She says in a pool of thousands that I'm safe. Sure there may be hundreds of other kids, many with multiple entrees like my sister, but I'm not one who lives by the odds. When it comes down to life and death, who knows what awaits us, for fate cares little about odds.

Two weekends ago, Buttercup, Lady, and I all returned to wait under the shade tree for Ruby. I even kept staring up into the tree, hoping that she had again snuck up there without our noticing. I even read aloud from the same book that I had borrowed from the school library, but Ruby did not show. Eventually in the late afternoon, I peeked through the brush at their home and saw no movement within.

This weekend, I returned to the same spot, and again, my friend failed to show up. However, when I peeked through the brush at the house, I saw Ruby's mother hanging clothes.

It bugged me that I had not seen my friend, and her absence began to worry me that she was being punished because I had discovered her. I had no choice but to inquire with Ruby's mom.

When I walked up to her wooden fence, she turned her back to me as soon as she recognized me.

Clearing my throat, I spoke nervously. "I brought dandelion tea."

"I don't like dandelion tea," she said indifferently.

Gnawing my lip, I tried to hide my frustration when I did speak, hoping to earn her trust. "I've kept my promise."

The mother continued ignoring me.

_Whatever keeps Ruby silent, it's clearly genetic, _I thought. "Does she have other friends?"

The woman glimpsed at me out of the corner of her eye. "No," she answered reluctantly.

"How about her father, does he read to her?"

The woman stopped what she was doing and turned to look directly at me. Her face revealed a sadness. "He died in the big mine explosion four years ago."

Feeling a pang grip my heart, I gripped the worn wooden fence that enclosed their small yard. "My father died in that same explosion."

The woman gave me a long look, as if remembering. "What is your family name, child?" the mother asked softly.

"Everdeen."

"Ah, that's right. I remember meeting your mother at the courthouse. She...fell ill soon after if I remember the rumors correctly."

"Yes. It took her a while to recover." Feeling a door opening, I pressed on. "Is this what happened to," I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Ruby?"

"No. She was born this way. It didn't show until after her second birthday."

"I don't recall ever seeing her at school, Mrs...?"

"Nash. Our name is Nash." Mrs. Nash returned to hanging clothes. "They say she's un-teachable. School officials said that I might as well keep her at home."

"I think she's teachable," I said with a hint of optimism. "She has a thirst for discovery. And I see intelligence behind those eyes."

"Do ya now?" the mother smirked.

"I do." Glancing at her laundry, I found it to be abundant, and white. "Does she have brothers and sisters?"

"Nope."

"You have a lot of laundry." I bit my lip. "Those look like Peacekeeper uniforms"

The woman gave a faint smile. "To put food on the table, I do the laundry for some of the Peacekeepers."

"Does Ruby help you with the laundry?"

"Yes."

I followed my gut instinct and made an assumption. "I bet she begins the work without you telling her to do so."

The woman paused hanging a shirt to think. She looked at me suspiciously. "Yes, but what are you getting at?"

I shrugged. "That she is teachable, that she is smart."

"Anyone can do laundry."

"My mom says that most men are incapable of it."

Mrs. Nash's stone-face reaction made it clear that she was unimpressed by my whim. "Go be funny somewhere else, little girl."

"My name is Prim."

"Go away, Prim. I've got work to do." The woman reached for the next shirt to hang.

"I want to be her friend. She enjoyed listening to me read. I'll teach her words after school and on the weekends."

The woman sighed as she reached for more clothespins. "She has never said a word. At most she'll squeal when upset."

Thinking over the woman's disclosures, I began to wonder if Ruby learning to speak mattered. "Maybe she could learn to read and write. Maybe she's deaf." I suddenly remembered Ruby's reaction to hearing her mother's voice weeks prior. "No, she can hear. It does not mean that she cannot read and write. Do you read to her?"

"Ya. I use to when she was younger," Mrs. Nash said morosely, "but she never showed any interest."

"You should start again. She seemed to enjoy my reading to her."

Becoming agitated, the mother's face flashed with anger. "Are you trying to ruin our lives?"

"No. I like Ruby. I want to help; that's what I do."

"Go help someone else."

_Why do adults give up so easily, _I thought. Under the mother's glare, I felt the palms of my hands become clammy, but I refused to give up. "Why don't you want her to have friends? Why are you keeping her hidden?"

"You go now, child." The woman stepped towards the fence, pointing towards the Meadow.

I took a step back, keeping eye contact with Ruby's mother. Swallowing hard, I refused to run away. I asked again calmly and politely, "Why?"

The woman took a deep breath before speaking in a soft, but serious, manner. "If you really want to teach her, come back when she's nineteen years old."

Her words left me puzzled.

Mrs. Nash gripped the fence. "You don't get it, do you?"

Thinking hard, I shook my head slowly. "No."

It was the woman's turn to whisper. "The Games. They don't know that Ruby exists. Last year when she turned twelve, I learned that she had slipped through the cracks. We didn't put her name in the reaping ball."

Knowing that the government took their Hunger Games seriously, I was shocked at the mother's claim. "No one checked on her?"

"No. Since the school says she's un-teachable, Ruby hasn't been in the system for years."

"Maybe they think she's dead." I began gnawing my lip.

The mother's voice softened to almost pleading. "I don't care what they think as long as she's safe."

A most uncomfortable thought came to my mind, and my eyes flitted away from the mother.

"What?"

"I'm asking for Ruby, so please don't be mad at me." I swallowed. "Are you keeping her from learning just to keep her safe?"

The woman's jaw clenched. "No. She is who she is."

"I believe you." I took a small step forward. "And please believe me that I think of Ruby as my friend."

The woman stared at me for a moment before stepping over to the fence gate, opening it. "Come inside with me. I want to show you something."

I passed through the gate and followed Ruby's mom into their home. Their house was small like my family's. In the corner, I spotted Ruby sitting in a chair, staring up at a homemade wind chime made from pieces of glass and string hung before an open window. The simple chime made soft sounds as the breeze passed through it.

Mrs. Nash gestured at her daughter. "See. Some days, she does nothing but listen to the sounds that come from that wind chime. Her father made it for her years ago, thinking that she had a thirst for musical sounds. He thought she climbed that large shade tree just so she could listen to the leaves on windy days. I'd be happy if anybody could teach her anything, if it was remotely possible."

I already knew that Ruby was special; moreover, watching her enjoy the wind chime, her enjoyment of sounds began to tell me that there was much more to her, that she had desires, and potential. I began to think that perhaps her mother had become too accustomed to the girl's condition. I called out in friendly tone, "Ruby?"

Ruby turned and looked at me. She seemed confused at first, but then smiled as she rose from her chair. As she approached, her smile grew.

I turned to her mother. "See. You both need a change of environment." I looked at Ruby and waved my hand. "Hi, Ruby."

The girl did not respond verbally, but she did lift a hand and attempted to mimic my wave—in an awkward sort of way.

Crossing her arms, her mother looked down at me. "What do you hope to accomplish by trying to teach her."

"Nothing." I shrugged. "She's my friend and I want to spend time with her. Maybe she'll learn nothing; maybe she'll learn a thing or two along the way. Who knows."

"You've only met once. How can you be friends?"

"Actually, we've met twice." Remembering a story repeatedly told by my mother, a story about her meeting my father for the first time, I posed a related question to Mrs. Nash. "How many times did it take seeing Ruby's father before you knew that the two of you had something special?"

As if a ghost had clasped her shoulders, forgotten memories came rushing back to Mrs. Nash. Covering her mouth with one hand, Ruby's mom took a deep breath as her face began to redden. Her eyes came to rest on Ruby. "I've failed her." Mrs. Nash embraced her child. "But it has been so hard, for so long. I don't remember when I stopped trying. They told me that she'll never be normal, and I eventually accepted it."

"That's a good thing," I said brightly.

Turning to me, the mother's brow furled with confusion. "How can you say that?"

"Look around you at all the normal people. Normal is boring, unsmiling. Besides, she's better than average when it comes to athletics. She walks normally and climbs trees faster than my sister. I volunteer to help the special kids at school, and Ruby is not like them. I once asked my science teacher about brain development, and he said that the brains develop differently between children. Some kids are smart but are clumsy while others are athletic and swift who struggle in school. Maybe Ruby's brain is developing her physical skills first. The communication skills will come later."

Mrs. Nash brushed back Ruby's hair. "And perhaps the words may never come."

"Either way, you won't stop loving her."

The mother took hold of Ruby's chin and stared lovingly into her daughter's eyes before sighing softly. "You promise to keep Ruby a secret?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I won't even tell my mother or big sister."

Turning to me, Mrs. Nash said imploringly, "The Capitol must not discover her until she's too old to be reaped for the Games."

"I don't think that they'd send someone who has a mental disability to die in the Games. The Capitol wants the Games to be challenging and entertaining."

The corner of the mother's mouth pulled back with a doubting sneer. "They've sent plenty of kids with physical disabilities into the arena in the past, and they were usually the first to die."

I was suddenly struck by the realization that my own reaping day—my first reaping day—will soon arrive. My eyes fell to the floor as the dread took complete hold of me.

"Well," Ruby's mother cleared her throat, "you're certainly determined. Ruby is lucky to have a friend like you."

With those words, I lifted my head as my smiled began to return.

"Why don't you two enjoy the weather and go play under Ruby's tree."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes." Mr. Nash took a long glance out the window. "But let's make sure no Peacekeepers are out on patrol before you cross the road." After a couple seconds, the cautious mother opened the door and turned to Ruby with a single word. "Tree?"

Ruby's eyes widened as her smile grew. Before I could even take her hand, she was out the door, heading for the trail that led to the large shade tree, with me in close pursuit.

We had a wonderful time at the edge of the Meadow this afternoon. Lady grazed until her stomach was stretched full. Ruby and I climbed the tree—though I only could manage the lowest branches. And most fun, I read my library book to Ruby as Buttercup napped on her lap. Diary, I can honestly say it was a good day.

Dear Diary,

I have good news to write about what has been happening with my friend. It seems that Ruby's mother has fully accepted me as her daughter's friend. I now go every weekend afternoon to spend time with Ruby, to explore the Meadow, climb trees, and read.

Unfortunately, Ruby still has not said anything. I have been trying to get her to mimic the occasional word, but she just stares at me as if I'm the strange one. However, she now sits next to me when I read to her, so I drag my finger across the page as I read just in case she is starting to recognize words, though I'm not sure if she does—or if she recognizes the alphabet for that matter. I'd say Ruby holds onto her secrets better than anyone I know, better than Katniss.

Mrs. Nash sat with us as we shared dandelion tea served with tiny slices of goat cheese. Her mom told me that Ruby has begun to show some changes, though small. She can now tell that Ruby looks forward to our play dates, and seems to know when they are supposed to occur.

Today, Mrs. Nash took notice of the thick library book that I had brought. "Wow. That's a big novel. You're going to read all that?" she asked in astonishment.

"Yes. What else is there to do in District 12?" I replied. "I've read it once already."

"Really?" The mother's brow arched with astonishment. "Well, I bet that old thing was in the library when I went to school years ago."

"Probably. All our books are old since the Capitol won't make new paper versions for the district schools anymore," I said.

Staring at her daughter, who was happily nibbling on a small piece of goat cheese, Mrs. Nash sighed. "If you get tired of playing with her, just let me know. I'll understand."

"I doubt I'll ever get tired of playing with her," I said sternly. "She's the cheeriest thing in our district." I glared at Ruby's mom until she began to show regret at her own comment. "And I also know that you will never give up on her."

"Some days are hard, but I'll keep trying." Ruby's mom began eyeing me. "How has a twelve-year-old such as yourself become so wise?"

"Books," I shrugged. "Ruby reminds me of this book that I brought today. It was written by a Frenchman a long long time ago."

"How so?"

Setting down my dandelion tea, I reached for the book and turned to the last page. "It says: _until the day God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words, 'Wait and Hope.'" _I closed the book. "That's the most important thing we can do for Ruby: wait and hope."

Mrs. Nash smiled. "And love."

I returned her smile and watched our joy spread to Ruby. Refilling the teacups with the last of our dandelion tea, I posed a question to Mrs. Nash. "Why did you name her Ruby?"

"Her father named her," replied the mother reflectively. "He was in charge of discovering new coal seams in the mine. When his daughter was born, he said that it felt as if he had been given a one of a kind ruby, a gemstone created by love, more valuable than all the coal in the world."

Dear Diary,

Tomorrow is reaping day, and I'm terrified. I was originally going to write a documentary type prose and record my feelings, to document what it's like to face your first reaping, but all I can say is that I'm scared sick with my nightmares becoming daily occurrences.

I was also thinking that that this journal could be turned into a book to show what it was like to live in District 12. Now I just want to dig a hole and crawl into it. I can't even think of anything worthwhile to put into words.

My nightmares are the same every night. I dream that I'm chosen as our district's female tribute. When they try to train me to fight to the death in the Games, I just curl up on the floor and cry as the other tributes laugh at me.

If I am chosen tomorrow, I'm certain that I'll die in the arena on the first day. I will not kill anyone. I want to be a doctor and live by the oath of 'do no harm'. I will do no harm!

I don't know how I'm going to survive the stress tomorrow. My sister Katniss says that I have nothing to worry about, that the odds are in my favor. She even says that I'll get use to this feeling and will worry less next year. I seriously have my doubts. This is so wrong!

p.s.

After some thought, I must add something about Ruby. Mom, Katniss, if I am chosen to die in the Hunger Games—and I end up where our fathers wait, please find Ruby. I'm sure you know the mother, Mrs. Nash. Tell her who you are and how you are related to me. Please look after Ruby for me. She's beautiful in her simple little way. Read to her. She's one of the few glimmers of light in this dark world, and the world would be a better place if there were more like her.

p.s.s.

And Katniss, be nice to Buttercup. He only pretends to dislike you. It's like you're twins or something.


End file.
